Something to Overcome
by NJ Coffee Queen
Summary: Even Hermione Granger gets cold feet the night before her wedding. One-shot. R&R!


Disclaimer: I own nothing HP related.

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Something to Overcome

It was late, well past midnight, and Hermione Granger lay wide awake. Moonlight filtered through the window behind her bed, casting an eerie glow throughout the space. Ginny Weasley slept soundly on the bed across from her, a soft snore escaping every now and then. A dress, a white dress, covered in plastic hung on a hook on the back of the door.

It was nerves, she decided. That was all it could be. Everyone was nervous before getting married, Hermione reasoned. With a sigh, she pushed back the blankets, slipped her feet into slippers, and walked out of the room. She couldn't be near the dress.

The Burrow was quiet, everyone already in bed. It was odd to hear no noise in the full house. Outside was chilly, but not cold, and that was where Hermione decided she wanted to go. The outside world would calm her down; make her forget her fears and anxieties. The dark sky was endless, stars dotting the blackness as she looked up, trying to connect constellations.

"What are you doing out here?" a hushed voice spoke, but didn't disturb her peace. Hermione turned her head to her left to watch the approaching figure. Tall, a bit more muscular than lanky, red hair, and a smile across his face told her it was Fred Weasley. She smiled up at him when he took a seat next to her.

"I could ask you the same thing," she countered, her shoulder nudging his playfully. His blue eyes looked up to the stars as hers had done only minutes before.

"Sometimes, when I can't sleep," Fred told her, "I like to come out here. And when the night is as clear as this, I find a good broom ride helps put me in a mood to sleep."

The brunette nodded, her eyes turning back to the sky. "I couldn't sleep either," she admitted. "I'm getting married tomorrow, ya know? I don't think it's cold feet, but my nerves were getting to me. I needed out."

This time Fred nodded, his hand brushing away the hair from his eyes. He stood, all the while feeling brown eyes watching his movements, and summoned his broom from the shed.

"Take me with you?" she asked as his Cleansweep met his hand. A smirk graced his features, his blue eyes looking devilish.

"I thought you were afraid of flying, Granger," he teased, crossing his arms over his chest, the broom in his right hand. The smirk softened to a smile as he watched the blush creep up her neck. Even in the moonlight, he could see it.

She stood defiantly before him; she was not about to be bested by Fred Weasley. "Tonight seems like as good a time as any to overcome a fear," came her retort, arms crossed in a similar fashion, an eyebrow quirked as if asking him to challenge her. Instead he shrugged, mounted the broom, and waited.

She hesitated. "Any day now, Granger," he said with an impatient sigh, the smirk reappearing on his face.

Hermione took small, tentative steps as she approached the broom. Her hands rested against Fred's waist as she swung her leg over, settling behind him. Fred waited a moment, unsure if Hermione would jump off at the last minute. When her arms were firmly, to the point of cutting off his circulation, around his waist, he kicked off from the ground. The broom rose slowly, inch by inch into the air. A squeal sounded behind him; Fred covered his laughter with a cough. Her arms tightened even further around his middle as they rose over the pond.

"Open your eyes," he murmured as they hovered; his right hand controlling the broom while his left glided over her hands.

"No, I'm good," came Hermione's reply as her forehead pressed against Fred's back.

"What happened to overcoming your fears?" Fred inquired, turning his head back to look at the trembling witch behind him. "I'm right here, Hermione. I'm not going to let you fall."

Slowly, she opened her eyes, brown connecting with blue. She smiled at Fred before looking around, taking in the tree tops, the shadow cast by The Burrow, she even attempted to look down as the wind blew ripples across the surface of the pond. Fred gently leaned forward causing the broom to move ahead. "Alright back there?" he asked, gliding over the Weasley property. The space below them had been set for the wedding - the rose covered arch, chairs set in rows, the long white runner that she would walk down in a mere nine hours.

Hermione sighed. "I'm good."

"Wanna go back down?"

"Sure."

Fred slowly descended, his feet touching down on the banks of the pond. His knees bent so Hermione's feet could touch the ground, giving her the chance to disembark first. Fred was still straddling the broom as she moved to sit down by the edge of the pond. A wave of her hand beckoned him to join her, and he willingly obliged.

"Thanks for the ride," she said when he sat down.

Fred nodded. "Still afraid?" he asked.

A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. "Yes, but not as much as I was before."

"You'll be fine," he reassured her. "You're Hermione Granger. You can do anything."

They sat in silence, Hermione's head leaning against Fred's shoulder. She was naming constellations; he was making up his own.

"You should get to bed," Fred declared as she yawned for the fourth time. "Big day coming up."

Hermione's arm snaked through her companion's, effectively keeping him in his place. "Not yet. I'm not ready to go to bed." Her eyes felt heavy, though, as she yawned again. Her head resumed its place on Fred's shoulder, her eyes drifting shut as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He listened to her breathe, waited for it to soften, before carrying her back to the house.

Hermione awoke in her bed hours later, sunlight pouring through the window. The light played against the white dress hanging on her door, a golden aura shining around it. Mrs. Weasley burst through the door, the dress now hidden from her view. Hermione was pulled from her bed, a flurry of words thrown at her. It was time to get ready.

Hours later Hermione was done with the torture that went into preparing for the wedding. Her hair hurt from the pulling, straightening, re-curling, and pinning. She'd managed to wipe off layers of makeup that Ginny had applied. Finally, she stepped into her dress. A shiver raced up her spine as she took in the full effect - the A-line skirt that hid her feet, the jeweled bodice that sparkled in the light, and the lacy cap sleeves that settled against her otherwise bare shoulders. Mrs. Weasley pinned a white rose just above her left ear before handing her the bouquet.

"Ready to go down now, dear?" Hermione looked at the short, red haired witch who had been a second mother to her over the years. She nodded and they made their way to the backyard.

The air was warm and breezy, the sun shining brightly in the afternoon sky. Guests filled the seats, chatting idly as they waited for the entrance music to start. Victoire Weasley was the first down the aisle, in a soft pink dress and a white basket of red and pink rose petals in her hands. Ginny came down next, her hair in soft curls around her shoulders, a pink flower behind her right ear to match her dress. Finally, the Bridal March began to play, and Hermione came into view on her father's arm.

"Don't trip, don't trip, don't trip," Hermione whispered to herself, putting one foot in front of the other. She was all too aware of the hemline around her feet. Her father laughed, patting her hand to comfort his little girl.

"You'll be fine," he told her.

Hermione could feel her smile grow as they neared the altar. There he was, the man she loved, Fred Weasley, smiling back at her.

"Take care of her," Mr. Granger said, placing Hermione's hand in the groom's.

"I will sir," he replied, his blue eyes set firmly on hers. Then he turned to her and asked, "Still afraid?"

Hermione shook her head, a smile still fixed on her face. "No, not anymore."

The End.


End file.
